The notification arrived on my desk wrapped in three layers of security encryption, stamped with Site Director's clearance, and marked with a designation I had been waiting—yet dreading—to see in this world.
The Darkhold.
Just reading the word made the air in my office feel colder.
The report was clinical, efficient, and written by someone who clearly understood the sheer danger of what they had stored. But even through the dry formatting, I could feel the tension of every researcher, guard, and thaumaturgic specialist who had been anywhere near it. The Darkhold isn't just dark magic—it is magic carved from the raw, unfiltered abyss. A book that whispers to minds, corrupts souls, and rewrites wills. A book that has destroyed sorcerers, gods, and entire worlds.
And somehow…my people managed to secure it.
I leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers against the edge of the report as I read the details again.
The containment solution was perfect—exactly how I would have done it.
A multilayered vault, each layer requiring a different method of access.
Four separate codes.Four separate individuals.Four people who had never met, never spoken, and never would.
Even if one of them broke, fell to corruption, or succumbed to the seductive influence seeping from the book's pages, they could only open one layer. And the Darkhold's mental manipulation couldn't reach through the entire chain. At most, it might tempt one mind—but four coordinated minds? Impossible.
The vault itself had been lined in anti-Thaumic plating, infused with reality-stabilizers based on a mixture of my own designs and reverse-engineered fragments of Rick Prime's multiversal dampeners. The moment the book crossed the threshold, the sensors detected a spike in dark magical radiation. Nothing unexpected. Nothing unmanageable.
And now it sat buried under some of the strongest security measures the Foundation had constructed in this era—still whispering, still tempting, still malignant, but powerless.
A threat… neutralized.
A weapon… archived.
And a resource… one day useful.
But the strangest part was how unimportant I found myself considering it.
I set the report aside with a quiet exhale. Not because the Darkhold was harmless—far from it. But because I trusted the containment procedures and the Director assigned to it. I trusted the vault. And more than anything, I trusted my Council.
This wasn't something I needed to personally involve myself with.
Not yet.
Still… the existence of the Darkhold was a reminder. A loud, unavoidable reminder of something I had been putting off for too long.
Magic.
Not the sanitized magic of researched artifacts.Not the scientific magic of interdimensional stones.But the living magic of this world—the kind practiced by those who defend this dimension from threats far beyond even the SCP Foundation's jurisdiction.
Kamar-Taj.
And its guardian:The Sorcerer Supreme.
I leaned back in my chair, considering the weight of that name. The Sorcerer Supreme wasn't someone you "met." It wasn't someone you casually visited or negotiated with. The position commanded respect, caution, and a level of awareness the average human mind couldn't comprehend.
But I wasn't the average human mind.
Between Rick Prime's knowledge, Doom's brilliance, and my own research, I was beginning to understand the fabric of reality in ways few mortals—or immortals—ever had.
I was O5.I was the Architect of the Foundation's future.And I had watched anomalies tied to magic multiply with every year.
To continue ignoring Kamar-Taj would be stupid.
Still… approaching them came with risks.
The Masters of the Mystic Arts have a long history of distrust toward organizations that hoard dangerous power—especially ones as morally flexible and terrifyingly effective as the Foundation. They would sense our secrets. They would see the anomalies we kept locked away. They would sense the Reality Stone fused to my will, the Philosopher's Stone in our laboratories, the Song of Genesis echoing under containment.
They would sense the Darkhold.
But that was precisely why a relationship needed to be built.
If they found these things on their own…The conflict would be catastrophic.
I took a breath, then rose from my desk, pacing slowly across the office as my thoughts organized themselves. Spectre—the AI I'd created—floated a holographic screen beside me as if sensing my train of thought.
"Prepare a dossier on dimensional threats," I ordered quietly. "Include SCPs with magical classifications. Prioritize anomalies that pose existential risks."
"Yes, O5," Spectre replied, its synthetic voice smooth and emotionless. "Estimated completion time: twelve minutes."
Perfect.
I continued pacing, fingers brushing the edge of the table.
The Darkhold was secured.SCP‑682 was contained—barely.The Song of Genesis had been recovered.The Philosopher's Stone was now under Doom's supervision.My Reality Stone studies were advancing rapidly.
Piece by piece, the Foundation was evolving into something far more powerful than anything this world had ever seen.
But magic—true magic—was an entire field I couldn't afford to remain an outsider to. The Sorcerer Supreme held knowledge and ability that even the Foundation couldn't replicate with science alone. And if we were going to survive what this universe might throw at us in the future—Eternals, Celestials, Dormammu, even Thanos—then we needed allies.
Or at least… acquaintances.
Kamar-Taj didn't need to trust us.They just needed to tolerate us.
And for that to happen, I needed a diplomatic relationship. A foot in the door. A conversation.
I stopped pacing.
"Yes," I murmured to myself. "It's time."
Time to speak with the Sorcerer Supreme.
Time to connect the Foundation to the Mystic Arts.
Time to prepare for the future—before the future came for us.
I looked at the Darkhold report one more time.
A whisper from the abyss.A warning.A reminder.
Magic was no longer a distant threat or obscure curiosity.Magic was here.And we needed to be ready.
I sat back down and began drafting a message—one that could only be delivered through dimensional channels unique to Kamar-Taj. A message written with care, strength, and authority.
The Foundation was stepping onto the mystical stage.And I would make sure the sorcerers of this world understood:
We are not enemies.We are not prey.We are not ignorant.
We are the ones who contain the uncontainable.
And now, we wished to talk.